


Sweet Nothings

by wallscantalk



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/M, I suppose, Maybe one of these days I’ll actually write smut where Nasujima isn’t aggro, Please Forgive me, Take into consideration all aforementioned forewarnings before reading this, Teacher/Student, Yeah nasujima is a very kinky sadistic piece of shit, a somewhat ambiguous and sad ending, first time publishing smut, i want to write a sequel of sorts but that'd require effort, major abuse of authority, so i opted to make it a oneshot instead, this is definitely more of a rape fantasy situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 08:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12908517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallscantalk/pseuds/wallscantalk
Summary: Who was there for you when no one else was? Who was there to catch you when you fell? You didn't believe the rumors. You and your teacher alone in a classroom. What could possibly go wrong?Nasujima/Reader oneshot. Contains noncon rape elements.





	Sweet Nothings

The quaint setting of Raira High School long into the night quelled your lasting fears, the reassuring presence of your homeroom instructor rhythmically tapping his finger against a table beside you. Even as you’d struggled to understand the basics of fractional mathematics, the man guided you in your venture against personal inferiority.

“(Surname)-chan,” He finally turned to face you, his finger slightly flicking the edge of your shoulders. “It’s darkening. Perhaps, I should take a slight break…” From the edge of the desk, what your parents had condemned elders for doing sat innocuously, a package of cigarettes. Having now been accustomed to the scent of his vice and his cologne, you didn’t care that it settled on the surface of your skin. As if your mother and father were around- despite their neverending complaint in their absence- to care? Length of his nails clutched their first smoke, as his willowy legs rose from the seat. “I’ll drive you home, when we’re done.”

Nasujima, that was his name, to you, Nasujima-sensei, bore the burden of numerous rumors, yet besides infrequent pats and almost paternal chiding… seemed to you a normal man. The vicious bastard as described by students to be cruel and sadistic, may’ve walked with the stride of a man nearly old enough to have been your father. Even as he blew a puff of air in your spacey eyes to rid you of absentmindedness. You realized how well he’d aged. A reddened flush painted your cheeks before you could string a sentence.

“Nasujima-sensei…”

“Naa?” The man’s thumb and forefinger hooked a cigarette beneath their grip. “Are you alright?”

Trying to rid yourself of the flutter in your stomach, reminding yourself of the illicit implications of his appearance that you’d begun to find handsome, a small utter tumbled forth. “Yeah.”

Large hands that you’d witnessed carry books that otherwise would’ve toppled his twiggy arms rubbed the crown of your head in almost a ticklish manner. “Wait for me, then.”

_You liked those slight brushes against you. Touching you in public would result in at least a reprimand, but behind closed doors, you could appreciate the fact that he was virtually the only human who paid you mind. Everyone else had- without a doubt and within the bounds of apologetic, “acceptable” vulgarity- treated you like shit._

Watching him lightly pad out the door, your head in a slight daze, the calmness returned to the hue of your once rosed cheeks.

–  
Chilly air greeted Nasujima’s flared bangs, as he removed his instructional formalities. His mind brimmed in anticipation, at the thought of the young woman occupying his room.

Every surface stained, every countable surface, had been brutalized by the rubbing of his starvation, and the shrieks were music to someone’s unseen ears. Women were really creatures descended from the heavens, servants to man and bearers of man’s child, not a particularly smart sex, but beautiful nonetheless!

An unspoken rule was once solemn, they didn’t ask. They didn’t tell. Until one gnat had started a rumor, and from it spawned other troublesome insects. Nevertheless, to some girls, who’d forsaken warnings- and a surprising amount did, given his features- that remained intact, and the rumor mill cultivated its seeds from contextual clues instead. Spurned eventually by most of his fellow staffers, he felt a similar loneliness to his collection of girls, in the fact that despite all being supposedly offered to him for the dumbest of things in the past, he’d fallen upon his own lack of fortune. And now they all despised. _Despised, despised, despised._

Except for them. She was the latest of that collective.

_She was gorgeous, everything about her, he’d decided. Witnessing her cry, witnessing her joys, even holding her in his arms, allowing him to commit small infractions. So many had rebuked it! She’d been long lost from the pathetically dumb herd of followers and gossipers, a rare disbeliever! Perhaps even more willing than the others, a troubled child whose psyche probably wouldn’t shatter as much as that wretched Niekawa‘s._

“Fuck!” Taking a longer drag of an often unseen vice that only clung to otherwise pristine clothing, a smirk dancing upon him. The button beneath his collar popped easily.

He was going to smear her guts into mashed remains on the ground, savagely plucked apart by vultures. There was almost a pang of empathy, that fucking ugly thing he never felt, at the idea of her struggling beneath him, flopping akin to a beached fish. Someone so fragile and hapless was to be corrupted by him, maybe even liked him already?

_What a clueless thing youth was to the unfounded curiosities of teenage girls and their regularized desire for attention, regardless of the source!_

“I am so unbecoming of a teacher, unbecoming of a man...“ uncharacteristically expected, throaty laughter. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The butt of that cigarette thudded the ground, in a soundless school, windswept into the smoggy air. In a city corrosive with pollution, the poison he’d relied on to awaken him throughout the day was certainly no less harmful to his lungs than the air he breathed. Nasujima supposed all of the inhabitants were somehow symptomatic of the disease it bred.

Wasn’t his city, wasn’t his disaster, wasn’t his disease, but _she_ was going to be _his_.  
–  
You were becoming slightly impatient, uncomfortably kneeling in his chair. How once you’d been enthused the perks of standing tall above a crowd of students, yet your height couldn’t have accommodated for worse. In the very least, you were able to shrivel yourself into a shapely ball, propping your bust on your knees. Having never been particularly notable or popular among students, the solace you took was in loneliness and your sessions with him.

Had your skepticism really been dissolved so easily and drained into the sink of otherworldly problems each high schooler pardoned off their shoulders? The reassurance that rumors were not in fact, true?

There was definitely an allure to his looks, which were a mess of contradictions, why you’d deemed him handsome. Unkempt but somehow still seamless. Eyes somehow still looked welcoming despite their having seen sleepless night after sleepless night. Not a speck of gray, or a bodily hair in sight, all of it isolated to his thick hair and brows. The astonishment that someone like him was considered so malicious in story and fable was quite the irony as well.

These things that overran your coordination came accompanied with unfortunate results, as your knees crashed into the table simultaneously with the crack of the door. “Shit!” You cursed, before another flush greeted Nasujima, whose thin lip now turned upward at the corner. He was tall and slender to almost unrealistic levels, or at least proportioned as such. The first time you’d met him outside the classroom, alone in some corner sobbing underneath a set of bleachers, you’d embraced him only up to his chest in a hug, afraid you’d break his brittleness. The small of his back that you felt briefly was surprisingly sturdy.

“(Surname)-chan. Your klutziness almost precedes you!” Nasujima’s motions were faster than usual, as he straddled your dazed form. His hand cupped the delicacy of your now scraped kneecap, the exposure of immodesty beneath your skirt arching his brow. No, he would not remove himself from the top of you, and you grimaced at weight against your frame, despite being so thin, he lied on you with ease.

_It had to be a mistake.  
This wasn’t him._

“Sensei…” Whispering soundly, you felt his second hand paw at your wrist, before gripping it hard. Those beautiful contours of his appearance curved at devilish angles as he furthered the space between your spread legs, where the first claw wandered to tug the waistband of your undergarment, cradling your exposed cheek.

Nasujima’s usually warm, friendly tone had vanished, darkening to a raspy, low growl. Now you realized, too slowly, you’d been swindled into the spider’s web. And his arms pierced you to the cold of the tiles. “I knew, the first time I saw you, reclusive and adjacent to the auditorium window, (Name)… that I had to have you.”

A knot formed at the pit of your stomach at his bluntness, as you felt him massage the interior of your thigh. Before you could let another squeal escape, his lips, warm and soft for such a deprived being, embraced your hesitant, gaping ones.

Now as his first hand kept you chained to your imprisonment between the cracks of the floor, burnt into your corneas, the second unzipped his trousers to reveal a sizable bulge beneath his own underwear that left little to interpretation.

“Mnnn…” Moaning between a tobacco laden tongue clawing for dominance, Nasujima’s groin inched further towards you. Fumbling for a steady grip on a loosely buttoned school blouse, the fabric of your bow was easily undone. Each task easier than the last to his uncontrollable lust, the bare chill of the twilight classroom sent goosebumps to your now exposed sternum.

As he withdrew his mouth from yours, you felt his nails claw across the gap between your breasts and the small curve of your spine. The cloth of his briefs in your averted angle could hardly contain the gratification of his desires from disrobing you slowly. “(Name)… darling. Nasujima Takashi wants you to do something.” Supposing that was his full name, you nodded curtly.

The weak kicking of your legs and arms underneath him was so futile, and he continued to allow you no freedom, cackling at the bleak ceiling.

“I don’t… I’ve never, I don’t wanna do it!” Knowing what the instructor would without a doubt refer to next, his grip on your hips backed you against the chair you’d toppled from. Tears pooling in your eyes.

“Oi, you don’t think that’s what I want? I’d rather have a virgin with soft lips like yours…” his right palm padded your neck, only to almost strip the base of your ponytail from its follicles, shoving your face towards his torso. Whereas the girls who’d teased you in back alleys had only yanked portions, his tug was swift, a gasp ripping from your mouth brought pleasure to him.

Every second watching you groan hardened his stiffness, and your breaths were shallow against his tip. You knew exactly what you were going to be forced to do, as he dropped the remainder of his undergarment to the ground. Next you knew, it was shoved in your face, while he still gripped the base of your hair. His gaze above you stared coldly at your frightened orbs. “You know what to do. Suck it.”

A whimper limped from your throat as you shakily wrapped him around you, grabbing the side of his hip for support. To prevent yourself from collapsing was all you could do, as you lapped what trickled from the tip. Impatient groaning above you met with your bewildered stance once again. “Deeper, you bitch. Deeper!” Your nose buried in the newly exposed hairs you’d yet to see on his body. Thick as the rest of them, less numerous even so.

“Hnn…” You couldn’t protect actively, the man’s length on his own merit being further shoved into the depth of your throat. There was no weak prayer for release anymore, you’d decided, as his cock choked you. Each thrust sent another vomit inducing spasm. Discouraging the bile that rose in your gullet, he finally embraced releasing, a thick fluid that seeped as he withdrew onto your lolling tongue.

“Good girl.” Your body jolted in shock as his finger elsewhere felt along the skin of your nether, stopping at your clit. Trying, but failing to conceal your indecency, the click of his tongue resonated. Nibbling at your eardrum, you mewed at his play, each rub prickling you under your ripped blouse. The swell of his tongue maneuvered downward, sucking at the fabric surrounding your perky breast.

Swift unhooking of your cups, the flesh tumbled out of its confines, and Nasujima chortled. Lapping at the hard and rounded surface of your nipple, you finally gave way to your urges to cry as his fingers entered, slowly pumping in and out. The warmth pitted at the bottom of your stomach, every insertion more pronounced than the former. It wasn’t long before you felt it wrap around him and burst.

An explosion of your fluid on his digits, they proudly extracted and their owner giggled again. “Heh… (Name)… you sure are a _slut_ at heart, _aren’t you_?” Your mind dissociated from your body as your brain usually would’ve taken those terms as misogynistic, revulsion, filth, but the way Nasujima now rubbed your tear stained eye… the dampness burnt with longing  & heat, hearing him demean you. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you… indecently loosening your blouse buttons to the lowest regulatory level!”

_It wasn’t coincidence that he’d found you. He’d seen you at the entrance ceremony awkwardly braced in a position away from the others. Sooner entertained by the emptied athletic field, bustling sidewalks beyond the hate. A nonbeliever in conformity, an only girl. To him, that was the first spark of your essence that caught him._

Were you beginning to accept the situation, while the sadist above you thrived from your degradation? Wasn’t it always your fantasy, ever since you’d discovered forbidden activities, to conduct your first encounter with a seasoned man?

_It so happened that your mathematical prowess lacked, and his excelled. Attacks you’d heard on him were exceptionally misguided. A competent instructor and an even better tutor, he gushed to you once about wanting to pursue a tech degree in college, only to be shorted financially and generally. His teaching style was approachable, you supposed._

“N-Nasujima…” You stuttered incompletely. There was no formation of words, only incompetent sloshing as you felt him thump against you. “D-don’t do it…”

_Do it! Do it, you son of a bitch!_ Begged your condescending mind, judgment dormant. Disinterested and dozing in some forlorn corner, your examination of his delicately twisted face.

“Darling, I don’t respond to that name…”

_You knew, exactly, what to call him._ There the devil on your shoulders intruded again, clawing at the gap in glee.

“N-Nasujima…” Your maw lodged open, it no longer controlled itself. There was a puppeteer manifested in his carnal instinct, how it’d brought subconscious and physical form to their knees. “Takashi… Takashi-kun… Takashi-kuuuun.”

_Upon the time your math grade had improved significantly, even passable as supposed to bordering on failure, you’d never stopped coming to “tutoring” with him. Nasujima wanted to ruffle your hair and massage your shoulder, things that were not becoming of a teacher, let alone appropriate. You accepted them because you were lonely, and he’d captured your interest. There was a day where he’d brushed your nose with his own, and you flustered in unsureness before he pulled away._

_He had his chances._  
Yet he’d not kissed you.  
Why was he doing this to you now?

Grin widening as he parted you, brushing his cock against the sensitive lips of your labia, he teased your entrance steadily, teeth embedding in the risen tendon of your neckline. Precision only a man with advanced sexual knowledge could master. “It’s your first time? I’ll be gracious with you… (Name)-chan,” bulbous with insanity, his pupils continued shifting in your peripheral.

“Your classmates labeled you as a troubled recluse, but you were a pretty girl, so they gossiped about you. Some little girl from middle school, thought you stole her boyfriend, and that seeped into Raira. The girls called you a slut, the boys spoke of you dirtily… I wanted to fucking kill them. You had purity of heart and of body that I could sense, despite your troubled mind. And I knew that you would sooner be consoled by me than by those disgusting teens who would’ve raped you simultaneously, in body and in soul, had they had their way!”

_If he only wanted to fuck you… why did he start touching you beforehand? What was the intimacy for? It didn’t make a lick of sense. Why? He had to have done that for a reason._

His words should’ve repulsed you, but you felt your abdomen swell, grip the taut nip of your waist.

 “hnnn…” Instructive voices told you to revel in it, not reject it, for it was a situation inescapable, and that’d been accepted long before this furthest subjugation. The moment he pinned you, your brain had predicted, cultivated, and planted seed to exaction. There was truth to what you disbelieved, and he extorted your armored skepticism.

“Shhh…” The long withdrawn moan, shaking and elongated, fled your mouth, salty, still hinted by smoke and the thick texture of his semen. Sensations tingled, pinpricks of hot needles, the further it thrust, the more it stung. Now beginning to draw crimson from your orifice, the intensity of his thrust receded, and paused.

“I don’t mean to draw blood,” He retorted at the rupture of your torn innocence shamelessly festering in a puddle. “I can’t contain myself with someone as beautiful as you, (Name).”

The usage of your given name was only the least of his sins, resuming his thrusts to finally consume you fully. Hoisting you to your feet, the remaining blood dribbled down your thigh, painting the bleached tile that glowed with the outdoor fluorescence, you struggled not to trip on your discarded undies. Against the blackboard you were propped, claiming your patches, adding to your collection of now purple indentations. The pain itself was beginning to fade to numbness, as he forced you to cinch around him. Inhalation… sweat against his firm, yet thin chest, the nape of his neck, the scent of his hair. The arch of your back angling to accept it.

_Don’t tell me it hurts to have him inside you, you wimp. You like it, we can tell!_ The internalized goodness of your devils jeered, when he again directly stared into your eyes, almost wholesomely. A collective nod from them brought forth yet another moan. “Takashi…”

I shouldn’t be calling you that.  
Nasujima-sensei, Nasujima-sensei…

“Takashi!”

“Fuck… you’re tight!” Beastly howling, he stiffened at the idea of taking advantage of you publicly, announcing him as yours.

_My educator._  
Who righted my wrongs and listened to my privies.  
Who showed me no judgment?

_Rumors swarm you like flies, girls say it’s depressing that you’re so awful, with a face like yours. You could’ve had it all. You could’ve._

_I was falling for you._

_No. I had._

He was the one that saved you. Girls, they’d spread lies, and those lies were untrue…

_I wanted to believe the same of him when he found me lying in a sobbing heap that day. The haze of three tanned girls was lost to him telling me that i wasn’t worth their while. I sniveled into his chest to lay waste to my long hidden emotions._

Saving you, defiling you, were only concurrent because he’d willed the latter from the beginning. You weren’t his first, but you lapped the same milk from the same bowl.

“You feel good, don’t you… (Name)-chan!” Jarring you from a dissociative episode, Nasujima’s frame pounded you against the chalky surface. You drooled at the arrogance tainting his silken, smooth accent. Everything about him that attracted and horrified you, combined to form an adolescent who’d released the solace of sanity to the frightening weight of lust. You had nary cares that your back was kneading into such a flat and vast expanse, nothing to elevate yourself on, the panting, squishing… hushed and recessive whine that hummed in your ears. It was your own… to swallow, as you’d swallowed him orally…

Fucked harder, adjusting to him scraping you raw, like a lion to a lamb, as he rips your virgin sanctity to shreds… upstage, center, your masochism, humiliation, breathtaking as an audience of hallucinations clap, all resembling yourself as you’d wanted to be, a mundane, unbothered high school student. They disintegrated into slosh that splashed, stained you.

“Aaah… ahhh…” An inescapable torrent of pleasure washed over you. Autonomy, the eventual reaction to penetration, clenching and tightening.

Never mind if you were a passing phase, he thrived at the thought of you trusting him, and only confirmed your submission as a victim by witnessing the drool daubing your chin. He’d long since abandoned the concept of humanity, reducing your dominance and control, what little you’d established, as he fractured your vulnerably illustrious cunt. On the verge of release, Nasujima gasped his forewarnings through the length of his tongue again massaging your sizable breasts. “I’m going to come!” That tongue clicked with delight. Streaks of his seed spewed to fill your crevice, long, voluminous, and creamy white.

_A sound soul would’ve by then demanded that she herself retreat to the bathroom to somehow piss the filth from her system, to purge it in recently emptied trash cans in folded paper wrappers! To somehow preventatively serve as a contraception to his reckless deed!_

“Haaaaaah.” The drawn sound from your forced partnership this time came from him, and not yourself.

_A sound soul would’ve avoided him from the beginning. You weren’t sound._

Takashi Nasujima’s screwing of another student, one of many trophies to add to his seemingly infinite shelf. Despite his recent damning of reputation, there was always a lost disbeliever. An outlier. Like her, or her, or her. He remembered your name for now, withdrawing his girth in mire of your delicate, disastrous beauty. Now you were _his_ disaster.

The stability of the girl you knew was gone as you struggled to your knees to hold his hips and this time willingly wrap him around you. Final strings of his sex now dangling from your open, lolling gob, a psycho’s smile plastered upon his otherwise pristine face. A phone clutched in his hand, as he captured your indecency for the worldview. You posed cutely against your better judgment, knowingly understanding deep down in your subconscious realms, that if you didn’t follow his whims, he’d use your secrets and your reputation to his advantage, to your demise.

_Telling him how you’d despised your family. Attention geared hunger of your mother, and your fallacious father. Always busy with corporate shilling, always too preoccupied with arguing among themselves, they denounced your existence. In middle school, you’d lost your one friend and been subjected to vicious girl talk, and every weapon laced with poison insisted that no one would ever reinforce your trust._

_This didn’t change in high school. He was your only defense in a sea of indifference and apathy._

“Damn.” He chuckled darkly, setting the smartphone down on the barely rotating chair. “You’re the best I’ve had in years.” Restoring himself to professional condition, albeit tucking his shrinking boner into the confines of his trousers, the limpid and doll like stillness of your form frozen in time, robotically handing him the stomped remain of your underwear, now spattered with fresh blood. The stain on your skirt resembled a gash you’d obtained as a kid, a scrape from your knee, ignoring the drying fluids that caked the surface of your pale, ruined skin.

_Money never equates to sense. If anything, money made your situation cold and tactile. Looks never mattered either, personality, vanity. In life everyone was destined to die. It was better to live dangerously in consultation with a “sexy harasho”, a “sekuhara-kun” who mentored and guided you like the family you’d been long distances from than to have no one at all._

“Sensei… sensei,” A melancholic melody graced his ears. Their denial, their cries, but yours were the finest. The tatters of your bra, scooped and stashed in his innocuous looking satchel alongside your second undergarment, the slick and sultry voice returned to its normalized tenor, scooping your form. A sweet nothing. “I don’t wanna… go home… to emptiness.”

_Why was there romanticism in the fact that he’d filled you with demented, perverted thoughts? You’d usually hated that sort of thing._

It was something that you’d not sensed in a long time. Specialty. Fixation. Obsessive, possessive, the way he’d lorded over you and treated you. Like an existence, even if there was an objectification, he acknowledged your existence.

“(Surname)-chan.” Nasujima’s large hand gripped your own. “Then, will you accompany me?” The slight creases under his eyes, of this man still old enough to have fathered you, a real man, none of those teenage twinks who’d mocked you for faltering over a stairstep, and laughed as you fell flat.

_Tell me sweet little nothings._  
No need for verbal communication.  
Only a nod for response.

For now, you felt safe in the arms of the guy who’d forcefully stolen your purity, your last claim to childhood innocence. Just as you’d leaned into his chest that day and let him hold you tightly, freed your woes, a now more intimate claw steadied your trembling self.

Lamb without friends, caught in the jaws of a wolf wrought with starvation. Unfazed by the terrible implications of his desperation, he locked the door to be cleaned by a no name custodian who kept mum about every misdeed, or two, or three.

You were an entry in an equally innocuous looking binder containing his vice, and only further progression would begin to fill your profile. One of many women. For now, you’d been claimed as his woman. And when he opened the left door for you, before dipping into his driver’s side, of an old model car, you knew not where this dastardly duo would head, only that you were willing to offer yourself. The grazing of your cheek was long, eventually dipping to your lip, from which he drew a small red dot. The squeaking of confusion that sounded from you made him brim.

Your ass, your slit, were both bare, the cold leather upholstery of his otherwise comfortable seats causing you to curl your toes. Somehow you knew he’d buy you another set of lingerie, better than what he’d stolen.

The sweetness of your deflowered mouth stung, yet you were slowly beginning to relax, the crook of his left arm planted firmly on the steering wheel, exposed to you.

In an unforeseen circumstance like this, you were with a man you cared for, so bittersweetly, when he could’ve left you to rot, even after he’d plucked you of your petals. The future may’ve been withheld. Somehow you knew you’d eventually face rejection, for if the rumors heralded true, you weren’t going to last… but living in the present, after the negligence you’d undergone, Nasujima Takashi’s opportunistic self was better than nothing, even if his nothings were disguised, candied, and would amount to the same as any other.


End file.
